


Remember Me

by elfenphoenix



Series: My Home is with You [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Childhood Friends AU, Klance Week 2017: Scars, M/M, klance, the prompts just kind of fit together, this ended up becoming a multi-part series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 07:35:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10986375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfenphoenix/pseuds/elfenphoenix
Summary: How are you supposed to find someone if you can only remember two things about them? One: they should have a scar. Two: they were your best friend twelve years ago.What are you supposed to do when you find out that the person you've been looking for is right in front of you?





	Remember Me

When Lance Mcclain had been five years old, he’d befriended a boy without a family. He was Lance’s best friend at the time.They’d been inseparable. But that was ages ago. That boy had disappeared, just like he’d said he would. Lance still thought of him, sometimes, when he was fighting alongside Team Voltron, or just drifting off to sleep alone in his room. Was he okay? Had he found a family? Lance only wished he could remember the boy’s name. Or his face. But he remembered none of it. Only that he should have a scar on the back of his head, just behind his left ear. Why was that all he remembered? For some reason, his childhood self had thought it was the only thing important enough to hold onto.

But what did it matter? He probably would never see him again.

…but what if he did?

~~

It was an extremely hot summer, and his family was visiting town for some shaved ice when Lance had met the boy.

Lance’s older sister had teased him, saying she’d get some for everyone except him. It was supposed to be a special treat– his sister had earned a bit of money gathering metal off of the beach. Lance hadn’t really understood why it was such a big deal at the time. But he did understand that he didn’t deserve to be the only one without shaved ice!

His mother was fussing with his baby brother, scolding Lance for talking back to his sister, who had worked so hard.

While his family ordered the shaved ice from the stand, Lance looked around, noticing that the heat had kept the streets pretty bare– everyone was either cooling down at the beach, or in the shade of their homes.

But there was a boy, curled into a ball at the foot of a bike shop, his face buried in his knees. He looked really awful. Lance felt bad for him. Maybe he needed a friend?

He was about to go talk to him when his sister handed him a bowl of blue raspberry shaved ice– his favorite. Rather than thanking her, though, he took the shaved ice and ran over to the boy.

“Hey! Lance, where are you going?!” His sister yelled after him.

“I’ll be right back!” He shouted without stopping.

He reached the boy, who was sitting in a little sliver of shadow given off by the store’s hanging sign.

“Hey, are you okay?”

The boy looked up, blinking up at him. He was hurt… there was blood running down the side of his neck from a gash behind his left ear, making his ruffled black hair stick to the side of his face.

“Oh boy that looks bad! Did you get into a fight?!”

The boy looked up at him blankly, then shook his head. “I-I don’t understand.”

“O-oh! You don’t speak Spanish?” Lance asked, trying his best to think of the words in English. His mother had been very careful to teach them the language, saying that it would help them get good jobs when they were older. He still wasn’t very good at it, though.

The boy nodded. “I’m not from here.”

Lance plopped down into the dirt next to him, holding the bowl of shaved ice between them. “So where are you from?”

The boy scrunched up his face, trying to think, then winced, his hand going to the gash on the side of his head. “I don’t know. A lot of places, I guess.”

“Does that hurt?” Lance asked, reaching up to push the boy’s hair back, looking at the gash.

The boy smacked his hand away. “No. I’m fine.”

Lance scowled at him. “It looks bad! Stop trying to be cool!”

The boy hesitated, and then let him look at it. Carefully, Lance pulled the black hair away from the gash, and then set his bowl of shaved ice down, and pulled his shirt over his head and began to dab at the blood.

“Isn’t your mom going to yell at you for getting blood on your clothes?” The boy asked, quietly.

“Yeah, probably. She’ll hit me with _la chancla_.”

“With what?” the boy asked, looking confused. “La chancla?”

Lance hesitated, then shook his head. He couldn’t remember the word in English, so he changed the subject. “What’s your name?”

The boy was quiet for a moment, and then grumbled, “Keith.”

“Keith? I’m Lance!”

“Lance? That doesn’t sound very Spanish.”

Lance finished dabbing away the blood, then sat back against the wall. “My mom is half… half American. She said it sounded like a strong name.”

Keith snorted. “Okay then.”

Lance grinned, holding out the shaved ice. “Hey, you want some? If I don’t eat it fast, it’s gonna melt.”

Keith hesitated, then nodded, taking a big spoonful of the blue ice. He stuck it in his mouth, then grimaced from the pain.

Lance laughed. “It’s too hot to eat ice so fast, dummy.”

Keith glared at him, then handed the spoon back.

They continued eating the shaved ice together, taking turns with the spoon. While they ate, they talked. Lance talked about his big sister and his mom being pregnant again. That his little brother was getting big already, enough to be a lot of trouble for his older siblings. He talked about his favorite _tía_ being a lifeguard, the pizza shack looking over the ocean she’d sometimes take them to.

Keith told him about not really having a family, now that his father was gone. That he was supposed to be in an orphanage here in Cuba, but one of the other kids had hit him. He’d fought back, and would have won if the head of the orphanage hadn’t broken up the fight and then told him he was a bad boy for starting fights, even if he wasn’t the one who’d started it.

“I’ll probably be sent away again,” Keith sighed, burying his face in his knees again.

“Why?” Lance asked.

“Because I was bad,” Keith answered, as if it was obvious.

Lance still didn’t quite get it. “You don’t seem bad to me. Hey, do you wanna be my friend?”

Keith blinked up at him, frowning. “But I just said that I’m gonna have to leave soon. How can we be friends if I have to go so far away?”

Lance thought about it, then got to his feet and said, “We’ll just see each other again sometime! We’ll know each other by our scars! Since I met you because of the cut behind your ear!”

Keith scowled. “But you don’t have any scars.”

Lance frowned, realizing that Keith was right. “Ummmm… oh wait! I do have one! Here, see?” He pulled up the bottom of his shorts on his right leg, turning around so that Keith could see it. “I have a big white scar just above the back of my knee from when I got cut on some coral when I was swimming. My shorts usually cover it, though.”

“So how am I supposed to see it, then?” Keith asked.

“I don’t know! We’ll just find out later! Now come on, you can have dinner with my family.”

“What, really?” Keith had asked, as Lance had grabbed him by the hand and pulled him to his feet, his face filled with surprise.

“Yeah! I don’t want you to go back to the meanies at the orphanage. So you can stay with me for a while. Since we’re friends.”

“Friends?”

“Yeah! Friends! Amigos! Now come on!”

~~~~~

Sure enough, his mother had hit him with _la chancla_ when she’d seen the blood. But she’d also fawned over Keith, making sure she made an extra big dinner that night, repeatedly re-filling Keith’s plate. She’d properly cleaned Keith’s gash, all the while complaining about those awful people for allowing such a young boy to feel so alone.

Keith had slept with Lance and his younger brother in their room that night, falling asleep with a smile on his face. It made Lance feel happy.

They stayed like that for a few weeks. Keith’s gash quickly healed, into a small scar behind his ear. Lance showed Keith his favorite spots, playing with him whenever he had a spare moment. They found the bullies from the orphanage and taught them a lesson, despite getting in huge trouble with Lance’s mom. They played in the ocean, pulled starfish from the tide pools. It was a peaceful and happy time.

But one day, some men came to get Keith, saying that he didn’t belong there, even if Lance tried to tell them that he did. But they didn’t listen to him. They took Keith away, and all Lance could do was promise that they were still friends, even if Keith was far away. That they’d know each other by their scars.

He never saw him again.

~~~~~

“Not too bad, Lance,” Keith huffed as they headed back to the control room after fighting off a squad of space pirates.

Keith pulled off his helmet, his hair pulled along with it. Lance glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, about to say something cocky, but paused when he noticed something out of place.

“Wait, Keith, hold still!” he suddenly shouted, brushing Keith’s black hair away from his ears, twisting it around his fingers, absentmindedly noting that it was just as soft as it looked.

“Agh! Lance, what are you doing?” Keith complained, his face reddening, tensing under Lance’s touch.

“Just hang on! I need to look at something,” Lance muttered, looking closely at the thin white line running through the skin of Keith’s scalp, cutting through his hairline.

He stopped, noticing that Keith’s expression wasn’t the type of confused he’d been expecting. It was different– an almost frightened-looking, bewildering emotion Lance couldn’t quite name. In English or in Spanish.

He let go, allowing Keith’s hair to fall back down over the scar. “I-uh… how long have you had… that scar? Behind your ear.”

Keith’s hand flew to his ear as he looked up at Lance. “Since I was a kid. Why? Does it… mean something to you?”

Lance deflated. He must be wrong. “…Nothing. It just… makes me think of a friend I had when I was little. He had a bad gash behind his ear, right where your scar is.”

Keith hesitated, frowning up at him. “No no no wait. That wasn’t.. That wasn’t you… that was in Cuba.”

“I’m from Cuba!”

“You are?” Keith asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes! Were you ever there? Do you remember me?” Lance asked, his excitement quickly growing again.

“I remember sharing shaved ice with a boy my age. And his mom took care of me. But he had a scar on his leg. You don’t. Or at least… at least I never saw it.”

“Yes I do! Just look!”

In his eagerness, Lance started pulling his armor off, completely unaware of his surroundings until Pidge zapped him with her bayard, reminding him that there were other people around him.

“Just come on!” Lance demanded, grabbing Keith’s hand and rushing off to his room. As soon as the doors closed behind them, he pulled off his armor, stripping all the way down to his underwear, then turning around, pointing at the back of his thigh, just above his knee, where his scar stood out in a jagged white streak against his dark skin. “Do you remember now?”

“Um, yes. Now can you put your clothes on?” Keith pleaded, his face bright red.

“Why aren’t you freaking out about this?!” Lance asked, grabbing Keith’s hands and looking into his eyes. “We knew each other! When we were kids!”

“I am freaking out!” Keith snapped. “I just… don’t know how to respond. It was a really long time ago!”

Lance let go, stepping back. “S-sorry. I just feel dumb for not noticing it until now. Your stupid mullet always covered it.”

“Yeah, and exactly how was I supposed to notice a scar in such a weird place?” Keith shot back.

Lance shrugged. “Fair enough. But why are you all red?”

“B-because!” Keith shouted, then stormed out of the room.

Lance hurried to pull his jeans on, running out after him. “Wait! Keith! Why are you all red?”

“Shut up! It’s not like I’ve been thinking of you for twelve years.”

“Wait, really?”

“I… um…” Keith paused, looking back at him. “I missed… you. Or, well, I thought I did.”

Lance grinned. “I missed you, too, buddy.”


End file.
